The Sedalia weekly bazoo. [volume] (Sedalia, Mo.) 187?-1904, 1887-11-22

the Old way. under your fathers appl
trees. with nothing to do but dream
and nothing to wish for but our wed
ding-day."
The girl-a tall. graceful girl, witt
solemn eyes and white earnest face
obeys him. and they 60 out into tn
moonlight, silently.
"Are you fool, Guy Keith, or tn
next thing to it-a contented human
beinga" he asked himself listlessly, in
the solitude Of his rooms over the little
inn. a couple of hours later. care
you content, you-you who had the
power to make the world mourn be-
cause you fouted ito bury yourself
here forever as method of revenging
yourself upon one false womanp And
yet, is it burial? She. my Genevieve.
God bless her! Is my whole being.
moral, mental and physical. worth one
beat of her little hearth I fear me il
is not And yet she loves me-wor-
ships me. 1t is not vanity to say it.
For love her. / think I could cut
this sinewy right arm off to save her
pain. Yes, let it be so; it is fate. Gene
We've and Art! Could living man de-
sire two fairer mistresses, each perfect
in herself and neither jealous of the
other? Yes, 1 am content"
And he slept, while over the meadows
mile away a pure young face gazed
from a window of little toy cottage.
a face wet with the tears of happi-
ness that seemed too vast to be of this
world.
1t lacked but a week of the bridal
day.
Again the little church was filled
with music and again the girl sat in
the shadows drinking in the sounds
that to her were the sweetest thing
that she knew.
Down over the hillside the master of
the rustic railroad station stood palsied
with establishment. He had barely
recovered from the semi-paralysis that
had beset him when he beheld Guy
alight from that same train three
months before, and he was totally I'M
prepared for the advent of these latest
arrivals, this quartette Of elegantly
attired men and women who, consider
ably entertained by his embarrassment,
were inquiring of him the name of the
best hotel.
There was only one, he told them,
finally, and he would be happy to drive
them to it in his own wagon if they
would wait while he closed his office,
for that was the last train tonight.
They waited. and a lank, shock-headed
boy was sent in quest of the vehicle.
Comfortably ensconced within its
roomy depths, the little party fell to
converslng gaily. 81 know l am
right" asserted one of the women,
positively. She was O magnificent
creature, robust of physique, with q
magnificent head set upon throat
that for fullness and whiteness would
have filled sculptor's heart with de-
light. Her companions laughed
lightly; they were unconvinced, but
willing to humor her, and begged their
host to proceed.
They neared the church, and a great
light of triumph leaped into the
woman's magnificent eyes. Found"
she exclaimed, and sank back with a
little gasp of delight. Then she laid
her acknowledgement hand on the won
dering drivers arm. stop here.
please" she said.
As they entered the church, noise
lessly, leaving the station-agent to
wait outside and speculate hopelessly
as to their mission, the girl arose
quickly, conscious in some way of the
of an unhappy element. She
opened her lips to speak, but turned
again and shrank back into her seat.
Then from the organ-loft came the
plaintive prelude of Paolo Tosti's
Goodbye" song about which so
many tender memories of the lovers
hinged. The singers voice came forth.
superb, mighty, tender. and the bosom
of the woman who had led the way
into the church rose and fell in her
triumph. She, too, knew the song and
knew the singer.
Good-by, summer,
Good-by, good-by,
carolled the unconscious minstrel in
the organ-loft, all his heart in the
he was creating, and his aud
itors stood silent, waiting for the end.
The end was coming. From some
caprice or impulse the singer chose to
let his voice die AWAY as the olnrinna